


The Curious Case of Alexandra Forrest

by orangeyouglad8



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, benjamin button au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeyouglad8/pseuds/orangeyouglad8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa knows she's different. Has known her whole life. A young soul in an old body. (In which Lexa is Benjamin Buttoned).</p><p>Or</p><p>Lexa ages backwards, born old and frail and peculiar. Clarke ages normally, young and vibrant, never afraid of the strange girl next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Case of Alexandra Forrest

It's a curious thing to find when Titus opens his door in the middle of the night. A bundle of blankets, a small sounding coo. He looks out into the darkness to find the person who left the child, but sees nothing but shadows. It's only when he bends down and picks up the baby that he notices.

It's not a baby.

Yet it is.

Small and childlike, yet withered and wrinkled.

A baby girl.

An _old_ baby girl.

Titus is puzzled, frightened.

Curious.

He brings the baby inside, out of the cold of the night and into the warmth of the big old house.

The baby doesn't cry, doesn't make any further noise. Just looks up at him with big round eyes and a quiet understanding.

Titus hears himself mutter, "But how?" and shake his head, still cradling the strange life he has found at his door.

The baby, as if understanding his question, reaches up and touches his cheek softly.

And so much passes between the two beings in that moment that Titus finds himself falling in love, vowing to protect this child with his life.

Xx

He knocks quietly on Indra's door. The woman who shares the house with him in quiet camaraderie. Two old souls spending time together in their twilight years. Indra's brow is quizzical when she opens her door to Titus. Titus holding a baby.

"What?"

"Someone left this at our door."

"A child?"

Titus nods, pausing before he continues, "Not just any child, Indra…"

Indra tries to peek inside the blankets, but Titus pulls the baby away from her reach. "Indra… this, this is unlike anything I have ever seen."

"It's just a baby!"

"No, she's not." Titus tilts the child closer to Indra and pulls the blankets away from her face. Indra recoils at first, but steps closer to examine. "I don't know how or why…"

"Oh… This…."

"Yes. Unlike anything you've ever seen."

Indra looks back up at Titus, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you sure this is a child?"

Titus nods, not entirely certain how he's sure.

"We have to protect her."

"We do."

At Indra's words a small, weathered hand reaches out of the bundle as if to touch her. Indra lifts up her hand and joins it with the small one, a gasp at how firmly the tiny hand grasps her own.

They both notice the small hospital tag attached to the blanket at the same time. Indra pulls it closer to her, her eyesight not requiring reading glasses quite yet like Titus. "Baby Forrest."

"Baby Forrest...where have you come from, my dear?"

"The name of the hospital has been ripped off."

"Just as well, little one. You will have a home here with us."

The baby shifts her gaze back to Titus and blinks just once, slowly. As if recognizing the words being spoken to her yet again.

"I can empty my drawer and have her sleep in there, put some blankets inside for her… a makeshift cradle."

Titus looks down at the little one again, no longer frightened by her strange appearance but full of awe. "I think that will be suitable until we can gather some things in the morning."

Indra holds out her hands for the baby and Titus shifts the weight into the open arms before him, brushing his finger along the small cheek still buried within the threadbare hospital blanket.

"And a name."

Indra looks up from the baby, "Yes… a name."

Xx

Lexa knows she's not like the other children. She has known all her short life.

Aware of everything around her even in her earliest days.

A wrinkled and withered infant.

She remembers how the face of her father looked at her in horror, the gasping yelling that left his mouth. Only to shift to loud sobs that wracked his body when the nurse declared her mother dead.

How he covered her face with the blanket and ushered her quickly from the hospital lobby, the nurses calling after him in a panic.

She remembers looking out the window from her spot at the bottom of an empty milk crate, how quickly the trees and clouds moved past. How her father kept whimpering in the front seat. She doesn't remember falling asleep, or being placed on the front porch of a stranger's house, her father driving away.

But she remembers the way that stranger looked at her. Not with horror in his eyes, but with questions and softness, and love.

A sort of understanding of the strangeness that was thrust unknowingly upon him.

Lexa knows she's not like other children.

She knows she's not like other people.

Kept mostly to herself and raised by two people who share a home, and a life, in the strangest of ways. Taught at home, and kept away from prying eyes. A doctor brought in to examine her.

A doctor the three of them can trust.

And when they do go out she remains covered up, as quiet as possible. Her old hands gloved, her face hidden with hair and scarves and hats.

Her trust in her caretakers unshakable.

Yet, there are some who see.

Some who were bound to.

More than one woman faints, some men yelp, some women scream. It's always the same reaction in a different form.

Surprise. Terror.

There are some who are more curious than others, quizzical and questioning. Titus and Indra always remain skeptical around those few.

Afraid of rumors and gossip.

Of what the questions will lead to.

The only ones who have been interwoven into the small family unit at 26 Maple Lane are the neighbors. A young couple with a small child of their own.

Abby and Jake Griffin welcomed a baby girl into their family the week before Titus came to find the bundle just outside his door.

Abby looked at the baby with her doctor eyes, examining the child and finding nothing wrong with her health except for her case of unexplainable old-yet-not age. And Jake, Jake built the child a small crib matching the one he had finished for his own daughter.

And when the two children were old enough to meet face to face, Lexa sat as still as possible, letting the other girl look her over.

Clarke, merely a baby herself, reaching out and giggling with delight at the other child before her. Seeing only a playmate and friend.

Xx

"Lexa, are you coming to my party?" Clarke's voice rings out from the window of her room up on the second story of the house next door.

Lexa readjusts herself against the tree trunk, setting her book down on her lap and looking towards the other girl's brilliant smile. "Clarke… you know I can't come to the party," She pauses at Clarke's exaggerated pout, "But you know I'll be there for dinner after."

Clarke squeals and claps excitedly, still hanging out the window. Her face splits into a giant grin, "What are you reading?"

"An adventure."

"Can I adventure with you?"

"Always." Lexa's cheeks warm when Clarke disappears from her window no doubt about to bound out the creaky screen door of her back porch to sit next to Lexa in their favorite spot.

Sure enough the familiar creak and slam sound around Lexa's ears before Clarke slides to a stop and plops down at Lexa's side, her shoulder leaning in to the other girl in a warm welcome.

"How was school today?"

"Boring. I always miss you too much."

"Well, you don't have to miss me anymore."

Clarke rests her head against Lexa's shoulder and threads her arm through Lexa's, falling into a quiet rhythm of breathing and reading. It's only a few moments before Lexa can feel the familiar scrunch of Clarke's face against her shoulder, "What kind of book is this, Lex?"

"It's a book about pirates."

"It's confusing."

"Would you like me to read it outloud for you?"

Clarke nods, and Lexa clears her throat preparing to read.

"I think I would like to be a pirate someday." Clarke's voice sounds wistful and far away and Lexa can almost feel the sea spray hitting her face.

"Me too."

"Maybe one day, when we're more grown up than seven." Clarke threads her fingers through Lexa's and squeezes, the same way she always does whenever they talk about age.

The same way she always has.

"Maybe."

Xx

When Lexa turns thirteen she decides to get a job in the next town over. With the way her height has suddenly bloomed, she looks like a spry retiree. Titus seems concerned about the possibility of her being found out, but Indra schools her on how to act even more so than usual. Helping her pick out a new identity to wear while out in the world.

They both know that Lexa understands the consequences that would arise if anyone were to find out her secret.

She takes the bus every day twenty minutes to the next town and works at the library, stacking books and helping patrons find what they're looking for. She loses herself in the pages, reading everything she can get her hands on.

Everything that interests her. And some things that don't.

She reads and she reads, absorbing as much information and knowledge as possible.

Except on the days that Clarke comes to visit.

On those days, when Clarke arrives bright and shining at the front desk after school, they sit at a table in the corner and talk.

Lexa likes those days the best.

Clarke always stays with her until closing. Waiting while Lexa locks the big, heavy front door and pockets the small key. They walk quietly to the bus stop, sitting in a shared silence, a shared comfort all the way home, parting only at Lexa's door.

Clarke always hugs her then, leaving with a small, shy smile.

Lexa always has to remind herself to breathe.

Xx

It stays that way for years. Lexa working at the library under a new name, Clarke coming to visit the helpful attendant after school.

Until they turn seventeen and Clarke brings a pile of brochures with her, bright and colorful. All touting the highlights of each college and university listed.

Clarke's smile dimmer than Lexa has ever seen it.

"Clarke?"

"I'm alright." She pauses and takes a deep breath, "Will you help me look through these?"

"Of course. I'll be right over."

Clarke turns towards their table, her shoulders slumped with the new heavy burden of adulthood. Lexa's stomach tumbles inside of her. Clarke is going to leave.

Clarke is going to leave very soon.

She joins Clarke after a few moments, the other girl's head in her hands. Lexa lays a soothing hand on her back and sits down.

"There are so many choices."

"It's ok… you have time."

"I thought I wanted to be a doctor like my mom but now… I don't know." She looks up at Lexa with tears coating her eyes, worry drawn all over her face. "What am I supposed to do, Lex?" She whispers, hushed and quiet.

"Whatever you want."

"I don't know what I want." It's so soft, so quiet, that Lexa has to strain to hear it. But she does.

She waits a moment, holding Clarke's gaze. She lets a small smile stretch over her face, "Of course you do… I remember you saying something about becoming a pirate. I can just see it now, the formidable Clarke Griffin takes to the seas."

At her words Clarke laughs out loud and free, earning a few reproachful glares. Lexa can't help but smile wider, feeling lighter in her chest somehow.

"How do you always do that?" Clarke's face is bright and happy again, her voice light.

"Do what?"

"Make me feel better… know just what to say?"

Lexa ignores the blood pounding in her ears as she shrugs, unwilling to deal with the flurry of emotions rising in her stomach.

Clarke is quiet for a moment and Lexa is called away to help someone find a book, she brushes her hand along Clarke's shoulder as she leaves. The only comfort she can offer the other girl.

When she returns Clarke looks less stressed, her pile of college brochures off to the side of the table and a piece of paper before her. As Lexa gets closer she sees herself smiling back at her from the page in pencil.

Memories rush through her mind, of Clarke drawing and painting whenever she had the chance. How her brow would always furrow with concentration as she looked from the page to the object she decided to put on paper that day.

And a storm rises up in Lexa's blood. Unable to be pushed aside. She sees the older woman looking at her from the page in front of Clarke and feels, for the first time in a long time, the vast differences between them.

Xx

Clarke graduates on the second Saturday of June. Her blue cap and gown bringing out the depths of her eyes. Lexa watches from the back of the crowd as Clarke crosses the stage and receives her diploma, her smile beaming as she finds her parents in the crowd.

As she finds Lexa further back.

And then she spends every waking moment she can at the library with Lexa. Drawing in the corner, or reading whatever book Lexa suggests. Bringing food and snacks and happiness with her.

They don't talk about school again. Not really.

Clarke sends in applications and studies for entrance exams, but they leave that subject in the dark.

Lexa knows with every passing day that her time with Clarke is waning.

Clarke will move on and away and leave Lexa here. At the library. A young soul in an old body.

 _Don't go where I can't follow_ echos around her head. As if Tolkein wrote it just for her.

They're sitting under the tree in Lexa's yard on a sunny saturday when Clarke lifts her head from Lexa's lap and turns to her with excitement. "Can I draw you?"

Lexa laughs, "Clarke, you've drawn me a million times."

"I have an idea."

Lexa merely shakes her head in amusement and watches as Clarke jumps up and races to the house to get her supplies, the screen door creaking twice before she's back. She sits across from Lexa, the concentration on her face, her tongue poking out from between her lips.

And she draws.

Her hand moving effortlessly over the paper.

The sun moves across the sky as Lexa sits peacefully under the tree, glancing up from her book every now and again to find Clarke looking at her with the gleam in her eye that is always present when she's drawing.

When Clarke finally sets her pencil aside, she looks back up with a shyness that Lexa has never seen before.

"What?"

"I just… I don't know."

"May I see it?"

Clarke nods sheepishly and looks down at the grass as she flips the picture around. A loud gasp slips through Lexa's lips as she takes it in, her hand moving to cover her mouth in surprise. Tears welling in her eyes.

"Clarke…"

She doesn't know how to feel, how to think as she looks at the paper, at _her_. Younger. Physically Clarke's age. The wide eyes that look back at her still hold the same wisdom she sees in the mirror every day, but the crow's feet around them are gone. The laugh lines that sit like parentheses around her mouth aren't as deep and grooved into her face. The skin around her neck tight and firm.

It takes her breath away.

"This is how I see you... " Lexa looks up at Clarke who is already looking at her with searching eyes. "This is how I've always seen you, Lex."

Lexa gasps again and looks back at the picture. Seeing her true self for the first time in her life. The self that matches her insides. The self that matches the picture in her head.

And it's beautiful.

And haunting.

And Lexa almost can't stand it.

Clarke shifts closer to her and Lexa feels the heat of her body. "Clarke, I…."

"Don't. It's ok."

Lexa turns her head and finds Clarke's eyes again, still scared but of what Lexa isn't sure. "Thank you, Clarke."

Blue eyes quiet a bit but there is something buzzing under the current.

Clarke leans in closer, Lexa can feel her warm breath hitting her face. And then lips touch her skin, linger on her cheek.

Lexa can't feel anything else, can't even breathe while Clarke's lips are on her.

Clarke pulls away and her nose brushes the spot where her lips just were, her breath now hitting Lexa's ear. "I love you, you know."

And then she's up and running towards the house, her blonde hair streaking out behind her before Lexa can say another word.

Her whispered, "I love you, too." falls into the muggy August air around her.

There is a note pinned to her tree the next morning. Her name written in the familiar script.

Lexa knows what it says without reading it.

Clarke is gone.

Xx

She remembers the words Titus spoke to her so long ago, when she returned to the house after a day spent with Clarke reading and drawing under the tree.

He looked up from the evening paper and took in the smile on her face before clearing his throat. A sign that he was about to be serious. His words forgotten until Lexa finds herself alone for the first time in her life.

"Be careful with your heart, child."

She thinks about those words every night when she goes to bed. How she didn't understand them until Clarke was gone.

The true depth of what Titus was warning lost on her younger self.

Abby sends her small, sad smiles whenever they meet. Jake always looks down quickly and excuses himself.

Lexa has never once asked them where Clarke is.

If Clarke wanted her to know, she would.

She quits her job at the library that Monday. It will be too hard to be there without Clarke. Too boring, too quiet.

Titus worries over her, but Lexa can feel Indra's silent support in every decision she makes.

She begins writing. Spending her days locked away in the attic, the small window looking out onto her favorite spot by the tree. She writes and writes and weaves the stories swimming around her head onto the page before her.

For money she gets a job writing an advice column for the paper in the same town as the library. Twice a week she answers questions and collects a decent paycheck for it. Sometimes the editor asks her to write other stories when a reporter falls ill or can't meet a deadline due to other work.

She finds solace in it.

In words. In dark letters on stark pages.

And it's enough for a couple of years, until Titus clutches his chest one night and drops to his knees in the kitchen.

Indra's shriek almost as alarming to Lexa's ears as the sight before her. She runs as quickly as she can to get Abby, frantically knocking on the all too familiar door. When Abby opens it and takes one look at Lexa's face, she grabs her bag and hurries next door.

He's dead before she gets there.

Lexa can tell by the way Abby's shoulders slump. Indra cradles his head in her lap weeping.

Weeping in a way Lexa has never witnessed.

Abby reaches out and takes his pulse, perhaps out of habit.

She slides her hands over his open eyes, closing them and dipping her head in silent prayer.

Spots swim in front of Lexa's eyes and she struggles to breathe. She feels warm strong hands on her shoulders as someone ushers her outside into the cool night air.

Jake wraps her in her arms as she falls apart, keening into the void.

She's twenty years old in spirit, fifty in body, but this is the most upside down her life has ever felt.

Abby and Jake come over every day to help them prepare for the funeral. The sad eyes they send Lexa now are for a new reason.

Lexa isn't entirely sure which is worse.

The morning of the funeral she watches as a strange car pulls out of the driveway next door. For a second she lets herself wonder, wonder if perhaps it's Clarke. Back from wherever she's been for the past two years.

She pushes the thought out of her mind as she pulls the black dress over her head, the fabric falling down around her.

The funeral is small but lovely. Titus, never a church-going man, is remembered by friends and family and buried in the small plot in the cemetery at the edge of town. Lexa wants to speak, but can't fathom it. Indra's grip on her hand like a vice as they sit stoically next to one another listening to Titus' friends share their memories.

It's not until Lexa stands and turns to leave with Indra that she catches a glimpse of blonde hair.

She stops on the spot, trying to drop Indra's hand from hers, but Indra won't allow it. She tugs Lexa along, until Lexa stops again.

"Alexandra… please," Indra's voice is pleading. But Lexa can't move. Rooted to the spot, trying to breathe.

Indra finally follows her gaze and sighs. She kisses Lexa's cheek and whispers "Be careful with your heart, child." And it makes Lexa ache.

"I was never a child."

"That's where you're wrong." Indra's voice is chiding, but she drops the subject and continues on. The small crowd leaving the cemetery.

Leaving Lexa.

Staring at Clarke.

Finally Lexa moves, walking towards the small path that leads out of the sacred ground and into the park next door. She wonders if maybe it was a dream, that she's really alone and wandering through the trees. Until she feels _her_.

Feels Clarke's presence behind her, but doesn't slow. Doesn't stop.

She comes to a stop next to her favorite giant tree, taking a big breath and refusing to hope.

Clarke stops behind her. They don't speak for a long moment, sharing the silence broken only by the birds overhead.

She struggles to find air, to find words.

Until Clarke's voice breaks through, soft. "Lex."

And Lexa's whole world falls apart even more. She spins around with fire raging in her blood, "You _left_ me."

Clarke's eyes are sad and so blue. She nods.

" _You_ _left_ …" Lexa chokes back a sob and feels Clarke start to move closer to her. "Don't."

Sobs wrack through Lexa's body as she feels everything. All the grief, all the confusion, all the heartbreak.

And Clarke, Clarke stands strong and steadfast before her. Watching Lexa fall apart, not able to do anything to help.

When Lexa's cries quiet, Clarke takes another small step closer. "I'm sorry."

Lexa hiccups, wiping her eyes and scoffing.

" _Lex…_ " she waits for Lexa to look up, to look at her. "I'm _sorry_. I had to... I'm so sorry." Her voice cracks around her apology and the unsaid emotions swell in the air around them.

Lexa holds her gaze for a moment, the familiar blue usually so calming. Clarke's eyes begin to well with unshed tears as she tries to remain strong, strong enough for Lexa.

Lexa blinks, and turns around, Clarke left behind in her wake.

Xx

Titus left the house and all of his belongings and estate to Lexa, with the caveat that she allow Indra to remain there for as long as she so desired.

It's a caveat that was unnecessary, but Lexa knows it was more for Indra's sake than her own.

Lexa continues writing, shuts herself up in the attic more and more than before.

Ignores Indra's worried gaze whenever she descends.

Abby and Jake come around and visit more often, bringing food for Indra and keeping her company. They share warmth with Lexa, asking her about her life and her work. It feels good and right and Lexa feels calm for the first time in ages.

Ignores the nagging voice in the back of her head.

And it's ok for a few months, this quiet life.

Writing and taking care of her psuedo-mother and spending time with the neighbors. It's ok.

Until blue eyes haunt her dreams again.

The familiar husky voice.

And Lexa has to know.

She waits until a respectable hour. Watching as the sunrise dawns in the sky, as the town comes to life around her.

She waits and dresses and pulls her hair back into a braid before squeezing Indra's shoulder and leaving the house.

The knock on the office door is louder than she intended, but a warm voice calls her forward. Abby smiles when Lexa enters and holds out an arm for her to have a seat.

"Good morning."

"Good morning…"

"Is there something you need to discuss, Lexa? Are you feeling alright?"

Lexa nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Where is she?"

Abby sits back relaxed and smiles, "New York City."

Lexa absorbs her words and takes a deep breath. "Can I…" she clears her throat, "May I have her address?"

Abby reaches into her desk drawer, "I thought you'd never ask.'

Lexa stands without looking at the paper, folding it and wringing it through her hands. When she looks back up, she sees the same happiness she used to see so often on Abby's face. "Will you keep checking up on Indra for me? I need to… I need to see her."

Abby nods, "I will. I will take good care of her, Lexa. Please take care of my Clarke."

Lexa chokes down the frog that rises in her throat again, the emotions flowing through her veins again. "I always have."

Abby reaches out and grasps Lexa's hand, "I know."

Xx

New York City is louder and busier than Lexa could have been prepared for. It's vast and bustling and so different from the quiet confines of the town Lexa has never left. She checks into the hotel nervous and stuttering. Her hands shake as she turns the key and opens the door to her room.

She lies down to rest, too early for her to go to Clarke's address. Still the middle of the workday. She should have asked Abby where Clarke works, when she's usually home. Instead she waits, nothing calming her down.

When she's ready she calls down for a taxi as the concierge suggested, pulling out the worn address from her pocket to read off to the driver, even though she has it memorized.

She watches from the window of the car as tall buildings and skyscrapers flash by, remembering a long ago moment in her life as trees and clouds rushed passed a baby in a box. The taxi begins to slow to a stop and Lexa quietly pays her fare, stepping onto the curb and straightening her spine.

Her palms tingle with nerves.

A man holds the door to the building open for her and she breathes out thanks, rushing onto the open elevator. The button for number 3 depresses and lights up beneath her finger before she has time to think and the elevator lurches to a start.

The doors open with a small ding and Lexa steps into the hallway, blood rushing through her ears. Clarke's door is at the end, closed and imposing. Lexa takes a moment to breathe, willing herself to move.

She's at the door before she realizes it, her hand rising up to knock softly.

Footsteps sound from the inside, getting closer and closer to the door.

And then it's open.

And Clarke is looking at her, surprise and confusion melting away into happiness. She leans her head against the open door, her smile building and burning into Lexa's soul. " _Lex._ "

"Hello, Clarke."

Clarke reaches out and pulls her inside, shutting the door behind her. "Finally." She wraps Lexa up in a strong hug, every part of her body squeezing against Lexa's. The arms around her neck tight, unforgiving, welcoming. Clarke shoves her face in the crook of Lexa's neck and breathes deep, Lexa feels her ribs expand under her palms. "I've been waiting for you."

Lexa absorbs the words, lets them sink into her. Clarke's hold on her not wavering. She moves her face from Lexa's neck and drags her nose up along her cheek, stopping at her ear. Warm breath sends shivers down Lexa's spine. "I love you, you know."

"Clarke." The name breaks on her voice, across her lips. Clarke pulls away enough to look at her. Lexa lets her stare, feels the way her eyes gaze heavy on the changed face before her. Younger than Clarke has ever seen her except in dreams.

Her hand reaches up and brushes along Lexa's face, smooths the worry lines on her brow and cradles her cheek. "So beautiful…" her voice is barely a whisper.

Clarke's eyes land full and heavy on Lexa's lips, she leans forward and Lexa feels her heart drop to her knees. Soft lips brush against her own.

And everything that Lexa thought she knew flies out the window.

Clarke kisses her with so much tenderness and love it makes her ache and tremble. She must feel it, because she pulls away and leans her forehead against Lexa's, breathing deeply. "Lex…"

"Again, please…."

Clarke kisses her again and Lexa feels something inside of her shift into place.

Finally understands why. Why she was put on this earth. Why she was given this curse.

Finally feels whole. Free. Loved.

For the first time in her life she feels _right_.

Clarke smiles and deepens the kiss, weaving her hand through Lexa's hair, pulling her closer at the waist.

They kiss and they kiss and Clarke sighs into Lexa's mouth and brings them closer and closer together.

And Lexa kisses back.

Smiles and holds Clarke tight, not ever wanting to let go.

Clarke pulls her away from the door, stripping her of her coat and dropping it to the floor. She keeps her mouth on Lexa's, asking without words.

Lexa follows her to the bedroom at the end of the hall, lets out an _oof_ as Clarke pushes her against the bed. Clarke disrobes and stands before Lexa in the dying sunlight outside the window. Lexa's eyes roam over the girl before her, lust igniting in her belly. She stretches her hand out towards Clarke and pulls her closer.

"Clarke…"

Clarke leans over her and pulls off each piece of her clothing. Stopping and smiling at Lexa every few moments. Her hands grazing over Lexa's skin, burning with their desire.

Clarke sees every inch of her skin, every wrinkle, every difference between them.

And Lexa has never felt more relaxed. More beautiful. More wanted.

It's as if Clarke is breathing new life into her with every touch. Every kiss.

With Clarke over her, inside of her, Lexa's body shakes and trembles with the fullness of it all.

_Love._

She is wholly and utterly in love with Clarke Griffin. And she has been since before she even knew what love was at all.

And every book she's ever read, every poem, every sonnet all make sense.

And it almost breaks her heart.

Her body shatters with everything that Clarke pours into her.

All the love.

All the feeling.

All of herself.

And when they lie there catching their breaths, Lexa gets quiet. And all of the uncertainty about life stills inside of her.

Her eyes water and she fights to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks and ruining this perfect moment.

Clarke worrying that something is wrong brushes kisses gently over Lexa's cheeks. Stills beside her and waits for Lexa to look at her.

"Lex?"

"I'm ok… I'm ok." Lexa leans over and connects their lips this time, full and open and free. Clarke shifts next to her, her body relaxing against Lexa's and falling into a new rhythm.

When they break apart, Clarke's smile is wide and beaming. The smile that Lexa always associated with her.

"What?" The question bubbles up from Lexa before she can stop it.

"I've been in love with you for so long…."

At that Lexa laughs loud and free, it rings around the apartment and echoes off the wall. Clarke giggles beside her.

"Why is that so funny?" Clarke leans down and pecks her lips.

"It's not... it's just, beautiful."

Clarke gazes down at her and studies her face, her eyes so full of life. Sparkling with mirth.

"I love you, too."

Xx

"Why did you leave?" It's dark. Clarke's head is heavy on Lexa's chest, her hand tangled in Lexa's frizzy waves. They've been lying together for hours, tangled in each other and nothing else. Lexa's whispered question sounds loud in the silence, heavy with the distance between them.

Clarke gasps and shifts against her.

"I…"

"Clarke, it's ok. I want to know. I want to know everything."

"I had to see if I could live without you." Lexa grips her tighter, and Clarke props herself up on her elbow to look at her. "I had to try."

"And could you?"

Clarke shakes her head slowly, "I thought about you every day. I couldn't put you from my mind. It's like you were inside of me this whole time... It was torture."

"You never wrote. You never came back."

Tears slip from Clarke's eyes, "I know. I couldn't. I couldn't explain it to you or even to myself. I just… had to keep moving forward."

"Where did you go?"

"Yale. I started at Yale. Pre Med. I hated it… I hated it so much, and I was missing you."

"How long were you there?"

"A year. I finished the year and then I dropped out and moved here. I don't know if my parents have ever been that upset with me. They wanted me to come home and save money if I wasn't going to be in school but I couldn't. I needed to be here."

Lexa hums into the silence, waiting to see if Clarke will continue. She doesn't, sinking back down onto Lexa and pulling her hip closer, closer.

"I'm sorry."

Lexa's response is a kiss on Clarke's brow. It doesn't matter now, they are whole and together.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What did you do, what happened when I left? Did you stay at the library?"

"No. I quit that Monday. I couldn't… I couldn't bear to be there anymore. I started writing."

"Writing?"

Lexa nods against her, "Stories. Novels… anything, everything. Then I picked up a column in the paper and started making money off of it."

"That sounds perfect for you."

Lexa runs her fingers over the naked skin of Clarke's back. Her body buzzing with the fact that she can. That she's here with Clarke, naked in bed, in love.

Both of them twenty years old in mind and spirit and soul.

And the rest of it falls away.

Xx

They begin a new chapter of their lives together. Lexa moves to the city, her money saved up from all of her jobs and Indra set and living in the home they shared for so long.

She moves into a two bedroom with Clarke for appearances, but they share the master.

And to them, it doesn't matter. It never has.

Clarke looks at her as if she sees her anew every day.

And Lexa, Lexa revels in the happiness they have found with each other. Sinks into bliss.

Into wanting and being wanted.

She continues writing her column for the paper back home, the letters coming through the mail just as they always have, the address just in New York now. Clarke paints and draws and sketches.

When Lexa gets a job writing another column for a magazine in the city, Clarke starts looking for work in the art department.

They are blissful and free for the first time in their lives.

Clarke kisses her with fervor every day, as if she's afraid Lexa will leave her.

Lexa kisses back with just as much passion, silent promises that she won't. That this is it.

All she's ever wanted.

A normal life.

No one looks at them here. Judges.

Lexa's youthful spirit make her appear younger than her body and Clarke has always presented a certain maturity in the world. Perhaps from having to understand things like young souls in old bodies from the time she was a child.

They visit Indra every couple of months, and Abby and Jake come to the city more than once.

And it's odd, how normal and mundane their lives have become.

How regular and not at all curious.

It's only late one night while Clarke is sleeping next to her, the deep, even breaths of sleep against her neck that Lexa realizes it.

The idea that home is more than a place.

Home has never been a place for her. It's always been a person.

Her home has always been Clarke.

She allows a moment for the realization to sink in before she turns and wakes Clarke up, kisses her silly.

Xx

"Lex?"

"Yes, love."

"What are we going to do when people start noticing you get younger?"

Lexa pauses, knowing this conversation has been months, if not years, in the making. "Move?"

"Just like that?"

"Why not? You've always wanted to see the world."

Clarke walks over to where Lexa has been typing away at her desk on her newest column, slides her body over Lexa's lap and kisses her.

"Where will we find the money?"

Lexa shrugs, "We'll figure it out, Clarke. We always do."

They're twenty-four and still as in love as ever, the possibilities ahead of them seem endless.

Clarke kisses her right and good and Lexa hums contentedly beneath her.

"Lex?"

"Yes, my love…"

"When will you let me read your novel?"

"When it's finished."

Clarke whines and Lexa nips the dip in her chin. "And when will it be finished?"

"Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, depends on how much you distract me."

Clarke sits back at that with a smirk on her face, and nudges Lexa's shoulder in jest. "You ass! Why are you being so secretive? Finish!"

Clarke tries to hop off of her lap, but Lexa grabs firm and pulls her down for a searing kiss.

"Patience, Clarke."

She finishes her novel two days later and leaves the apartment for the whole day while Clarke reads it. Dumping the pages on her lap while she's still in bed and brushing a gentle kiss over her lips.

She wanders the city, the strange mixture of nerves and anxiety swirling in her belly. She rolls her eyes at herself more than once over it. It's Clarke.

Clarke.

The woman she shares everything with.

The woman who understands what it's like to put fragments of her soul onto pieces of paper for others to consume.

The woman who will kiss her just the same and love her just the same no matter what.

She returns to the apartment at dusk, hoping that Clarke has had enough time to read most of it. But Clarke is nowhere to be found. She flips on the lights and walks towards the bedroom finding only their unmade bed. She plops herself down on the couch and waits.

When Clarke comes rushing in an hour later she's holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne. She sets both down quickly on the counter and nearly topples Lexa over in her haste to hug her.

When she's pulled into a hungry kiss, Lexa can finally breathe.

"Clarke?"

"I am in awe of you, Lexa."

"What?"

Clarke drops small kisses and pecks all over her face, "I'm in awe of you… you're so amazing."

Lexa laughs as Clarke keeps attacking her with kisses, "Where have you been?"

"I brought the manuscript to my publishing friend, I wanted him to read it."

Lexa stops, her heart falling to the floor. "What? You what?"

Clarke takes a step back at tone, the shift in the room. Keeps her hands on Lexa's elbows in comfort. "I brought it to my friend Wells, the one who works in publishing. You remember him, I introduced you at that stupid cocktail party we went to at Christmas."

"Why?"

"Because it's good, it's really good."

"Clarke," Lexa pulls her arms out of Clarke's reach and folds them, taking a step away from her. "It took me this long to just show you… why wouldn't you ask me first? I wanted to make edits and read it through a few more times before I even thought about sending it out."

"Lex, you've been working on that book for the better part of a year. It's time for someone else to see it, read it with new eyes."

Lexa lets her anger flare inside of her for a few long moments, turning it over in her mind, feeling Clarke's unease in the room. She shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, running her hands through her hair before she realizes Clarke is right.

"How are we going to do this? I can't go waltzing in to a publisher looking like this and then a few years later looking younger?"

"We'll figure it out, Lex. We always do."

"Clarke, I haven't had any time to plan this… to plot it out, to figure it out-"

Clarke cuts her off by grabbing her shoulders, forces her to look up, to notice the seriousness on Clarke's face. "Lexa, do you trust me?"

"With my life." She breathes out.

"One step at a time. This is just the first step, Lex."

Lexa nods, swallowing the panic that began to rise in her throat. Clarke's eyes cool and calming seas. Steady.

"I'm sorry… you're right."

"Can you say that again for me please?" Clarke's voice is teasing, something she always does to ease the tension between them whenever they fight.

Lexa looks up and holds her gaze, notices the shades of sadness that have slipped in. "You're right and I _do_ need fresh eyes."

Clarke takes a step towards her, "Lexa, it's brilliant."

"We'll see."

"Just trust me." And she leans with a fierce kiss that bruises Lexa's lips.

"Always."

Xx

On her twenty-sixth birthday Lexa wakes up to the news that she is a bestselling author. She sets the phone down, jumps and dances around the bedroom for a few moments before pulling Clarke back into bed with her to celebrate.

After six years together Lexa is still not used to the way Clarke's love sears into her skin, the way she feels like herself and yet infinite, as if her body is being strewn amongst the stars. She never knew that anything, anything could feel like this.

The mid-afternoon sun streams through their window when she pulls herself up over Clarke, studying the brilliant blue of her eyes, the happiness that radiates off of her. "Where would you like to go, my love?"

"Ummm…." Lexa dips down and kisses the question off her lips. "Paris."

"Ok," She nudges her nose over Clarke's cheeks whispering in her ears, "Paris."

They rent out their apartment in the city and set up a forwarding address for Lexa's correspondence, traveling home to visit the Griffins and Indra before they leave.

Lexa walks through the house, taking in the pictures of her on the mantle with Indra and Titus, how different she looks now. The grey in her hair darkening to a rich honey brown, wavy and full, no longer brittle and frizzy. The wrinkles on her face smoothing away, not as defined as they once were. The dullness of her eyes, replaced by the shining beacon of Clarke's love.

She laughs when she sees the top shelf of the bookcase in the sitting room, the eleven copies of her book lined up for all to see. Her pen name embossed on the thick spine, the one Clarke fashioned for her while she was meeting with the publisher and agents on Lexa's behalf. Indra smiles when she says "I can't help myself. I'm so proud of you."

"You can be proud of me and not buy a copy every time you see it!"

Indra's laugh is robust and brings with it memories of Lexa's strange childhood filled with canes and walkers, "Hush, child. That is nonsense."

They stay home for a week, before boarding a plane with three bags and a dream between them.

They rent out a tiny little flat in the heart of the city, old and weathered.

Full of character, life.

Clarke squeals with delight the first time they see it and Lexa knows it's the one.

Paris is magnificent.

They stroll through the street every morning, stopping at the cafe on the corner for breakfast. On Tuesday evenings they walk through the market picking up fresh food, fresh flowers. On Thursdays they visit a dark, romantic bistro and sit in their corner booth for hours talking and laughing. On Wednesdays and Saturdays Clarke takes a sculpture class.

Paris breathes new life into their art, their work.

Clarke begins selling pieces with a new frequency, her painting more layered and nuanced than ever before.

Lexa begins a new novel, inspired by the new city around her, the life bursting from the seams everywhere she looks.

And it's another level of bliss.

They spend two years there before returning to New York so Lexa can publish her next book. Clarke steadies her doubts and questions with her soft touch, her unshakeable strength.

On their last night in Paris, Clarke kisses her cheek in the moonlight, her arm woven tightly between Lexa's as they take their last midnight stroll through the city.

"Where do you want to go now, Lex?" Lexa shrugs and Clarke laughs, "Come on… I know you have an idea in that brain of yours."

But Lexa stops and waits for Clarke to look at her. "Anywhere. I'll go anywhere as long as I'm with you."

Clarke blushes and captures Lexa's lips kissing her as if she can't believe she's real. Her eyes are sparkling when she stops to catch her breath. "It's a good thing we're leaving Paris… the moony French are rubbing off on you, Lex."

Lexa laughs into the cool night air and pulls Clarke closer, "No, I think that's just you, my love."

Xx

Lexa almost loses Clarke.

They are thirty when Clarke answers the phone and drops to the floor, her hands shaking.

Lexa is beside her in an instant, pulling her close as sobs ravage her body. It's long moments before she can speak, share her pain.

"My dad… sick," Clarke hiccups, "Dying."

They flee their Boston apartment the next day, flying home as soon as they are able. Clarke rushes to the hospital to be with her mother, to see her father.

Lexa, Lexa stays home.

In tense silence with Indra.

Indra who offers to go to the hospital to check on things. To sit with Clarke.

Indra who does not want to leave Lexa alone with this feeling.

The fear and the pain and the heartache that sits deep in her chest.

She longs to be with Clarke. Hold her hand and provide her comfort, strength. Soothe the raw pain she knows Clarke is drowning in. Images of Clarke's broken face, of Titus collapsing to the floor, of the howls she heard flood through her mind.

And for the first time since Clarke kissed her. For the first time since that night when she confessed her love and let herself open to the girl who always had her heart. For the first time since she was a child, she feels lost. Hopeless.

Not enough.

The differences between them come rearing back.

Her shortcomings apparent with every moment that passes while Clarke is at the hospital and Lexa paces the floor of the kitchen.

They bring Jake home after two weeks. Clarke shared with her through tears that he didn't want to die in the hospital. Lexa is there in the house, waiting by the hospital bed that now sits in the center of his study, the heavy oak desk pushed to the corner, the shelves cleared for supplies.

Clarke and Abby maneuver Jake into the room, helping him up on the bed. The smile he sends Lexa belying his poor health. "Lexa!"

"Hi Jake."

"Look at you…." Lexa blushes and leans down to place a gentle kiss against his hollow cheek. Clarke slides her hand into Lexa's and squeezes. "You're starting to look your age." He winks and Lexa laughs.

"Shouldn't you be resting? Why are you wasting all this energy on bad jokes?"

"Got you to laugh, didn't I?"

Clarke squeezes her hand again before dropping it and leaving the room. Jake clears his throat and waits until the door is shut. "How is she?"

"She's Clarke."

Jake nods, it's enough of an answer. Clarke always prone to burying her feelings underneath a layer of stubborn will.

"She'll need you even more now." Lexa bows her head and places her hand on Jake's, the warmth she always associated with him gone. "You truly love her, don't you."

She looks up and holds his gaze, "With all of my heart. Always."

"Take care of my girl. Don't let her fall away."

The tears come suddenly and without warning, Lexa blinks them back but a few fall slowly down her cheeks, "I'll try."

She leaves the room after a few moments, noticing the way Jake struggles to stay awake. When she walks into the hallway she finds Clarke sitting against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, head buried against them. Lexa slides down the wall next to her, nudging their shoulders together and breathing deep. Clarke doesn't move, doesn't say anything. They sit in silence, feeling the seconds stretch before them.

Finally, Clarke turns her head to face Lexa and smiles. Small. An echo of the grin Lexa loves so much. Lexa gets her first good look at Clarke in weeks. The dark circles under her eyes, her wan pallor. Her heart aches.

"Thank you." Clarke's voice is a whisper.

"For what?"

"For being you."

"Clarke…"

Clarke leans against her, her head falling onto Lexa's shoulder in the same familiar way as always. Lexa holds her close and swallows the tears she's been fighting all afternoon. Needing to be strong.

Lexa almost loses Clarke.

Jake dies three days later in the middle of the night. Clarke sinks into silence, into a shadow. She runs from the study and throws open the front door, fleeing into the dark of the night while Abby cries next to the hospital bed.

And Lexa, Lexa is torn.

Indra stirs from the living room where she'd been waiting and comforts Abby, nodding her head towards the open door. Lexa takes her cue and runs after Clarke.

Clarke who is sitting in the middle of the street, guttural sobs ripping from her throat.

Clarke who pushes her away when she tries to help.

Clarke who turns silent, who looks up at her with empty eyes. Who no longer fights against Lexa's hands.

Clarke, who slumps against her while they walk home. Barely making it up the stairs to her old bedroom, spinning onto the bed in a haze.

Lexa sits up next to her, stroking her hair, fighting sleep and tears that threaten with urgency. Worried about the heart of the girl she loves. Worried about how life always seems to catch up.

She wakes up alone and slumped over a pillow. The sunlight bright through the open curtains in Clarke's room. The familiar sketches and poems Clarke scrawled away during their youth littered about the room.

Pages of her old, weathered face staring back at her.

Abby and Indra sit alone at the table, coffee steaming yet untouched in mugs before them. Abby's face ashen, broken. Lexa turns to Indra with a question in her eyes, Indra shakes her head in reply.

Lexa doesn't look for Clarke. She waits for her to return. They help Abby with funeral arrangements and flowers, cook food for her until the freezer is bursting. Indra leaves for the night and Lexa stays up with Abby until she retires. She debates climbing the stairs back up to Clarke's bedroom, but decides to go back home instead.

Clarke will find her when she's ready.

It's not until she's alone in the safety of her room that she lets herself cry. Cry over the heartache and the loss, the worry for Abby, for Clarke. For the loss of another person who knew her secret, her truth.

Sometime in the night warm arms wrap her up from behind, a small kiss is placed against her neck, a sigh reaches her ear.

She breathes a little bit easier and falls into dreams.

Xx

They return to Boston shortly after the services. Clarke itches to leave, tells Lexa she can't breathe in that house anymore.

Lexa, Lexa will follow her anywhere.

They return but Clarke is changed. She goes through the motions but it's as if she's sleepwalking. Her painting changes, darkens. Lexa makes the joke that she's going through her own 'blue period' one night and ducks quickly as Clarke's canvas flies at her head. Her eyes blazing and furious in a way Lexa has never seen.

They scream and they fight over the most mundane things.

It's jarring.

Lexa begins spending more time at the library, always a place for her to find solace. She wants to write but feels stalled on her current project, losing herself instead in the words of others. Bronte, Austen, Lee, Faulkner.

Her old friends returned to her once again.

There are nights when she opens the door to their apartment and knows she will find it empty before she even crosses the threshold.

She aches for Clarke.

This storm larger than any they've weathered together.

Abby begins contacting her to find out how Clarke is doing. Grows tired of the same non-answers that Lexa provides. But one night cold and angry and missing her, Lexa breaks down and cries into the phone. Admits that she doesn't know how to help, to fix it. Listens to Abby soothe her pain, remind her to be patient.

That Clarke will come back. Clarke always comes back.

The only thing that assures her heart is the way Clarke wraps herself around Lexa in sleep. Holding on for dear life. Just holding on.

Clarke and Lexa spend their days so far apart from each other. Farther than they have since Clarke left for school. Lexa can almost feel the August heat building around her, the memory of loneliness so strong.

It's as if the string that's tied between them pulls and pulls, so taut and tight it could sing. So fragile and frayed, Lexa worries it may break.

Until one night Clarke crawls into bed with her, her hands frantic, her kisses fevered. The most physical contact they've had in too long. Clarke's mouth hungry and insistent, her tongue diving into Lexa's mouth, searching and pulling.

Needy.

Clarke whines and scratches at Lexa's top, before she gives up and dips her hand into Lexa's shorts.

And Lexa falls into it. Into the familiarity and ease of their bodies moving together. The wonderful way Clarke kisses her. How she's missed it. Missed _Clarke_.

Lexa falls into it for a few moments until she grabs Clarke's wrist and stills her hand. Clarke's eyes searching and angry. "Clarke."

"I need you, Lex."

"Not like this."

"I need you…. I need you…" Clarke's tears spill onto Lexa's cheeks, her hand still trying to work through Lexa. Lexa patient and calm.

"Clarke…"

And Clarke breaks, her sobs heaving. She buries her face in Lexa's neck, the tears and the spit soaking Lexa's shirt. Lexa holds on, her arms around Clarke's back, shoulders. Keeping her close. Keeping her safe.

Clarke cries and cries until she can't any longer. Her breathing ragged and uneven against Lexa's neck. Lexa pulls her fingers through the messy blonde hair she loves, scratching Clarke's scalp. Feeling whole again for the the first time since the phone call that brought Clarke to her knees.

Clarke's whispered "I'm sorry" hits her ear, but she just rubs her back and stays silent. The night stretches out, the city begins to come alive outside their window.

Lexa is sure Clarke is asleep. Sure until Clarke mumbles something against her neck.

"What, my love?"

Clarke pulls her head up and looks at Lexa, her eyes red and puffy from crying. Her lips swollen from her hurried kisses. She smiles, another shadow of the one Lexa loves. "I want to get married."

Lexa's gasp sounds loud around the room, her mouth dries and a stone sets in her stomach.

"Clarke."

"I want to marry you, Lexa. I want to be your wife. I want to be yours."

"You are mine."

"I'm not."

"You are, in every way that matters. You always have been."

Lexa can see it. The moment the realization sinks in. Clarke's eyes turn cold, icy.

"Fine."

She pulls herself off of Lexa and across the room. Lexa sits up, the stone growing in her belly. Hot like fire, bile rises up her throat. "Clarke…"

"No. Don't."

Clarke leaves with a slam of the door. Lexa doesn't follow. Can't.

They stop fighting, yelling. Their apartment fills with their stony silence, cold cohabitation. But Clarke doesn't come back to bed. She sleeps on the couch or in her studio, leaving Lexa alone.

Lexa, alone to turn the pieces over in her head.

Weeks later she makes the decision. Leaves a note on the counter next to the coffeepot, the one thing Clarke has decided she can't live without, and picks up her bag. The heavy weight on her shoulder threatening to break her.

Xx

Lexa goes back to New York.

It doesn't feel the same. It's cold and vast and gritty.

She leaves.

She goes to San Diego. It's sunny and beautiful. It reminds her of Clarke.

She doesn't stay.

She returns home. The question in Indra's old eyes apparent, answered only by the tears that come.

She sits in her room and tries to write, but everything feels like Clarke.

It's been months. Months apart. Months away.

Months of no contact.

Clarke doesn't want her anymore.

She can't write, the words stuck somewhere between her heart and her hands. Instead she cleans. She starts in the attic and works her way through the boxes up there, through old forgotten things belonging to Titus and Indra. The dust coats her hands, her lungs, but she carries on until it's all organized.

She moves to the next level, clearing the guest room of old clothes and shoes. Donating what she can.

She skips her room and attacks the first floor, the closets full of old coats, games with missing pieces, puzzles warped with age. The kitchen cupboards containing cans of old expired food and grime.

She shifts through Titus' room, but doesn't remove anything. The ghost of him still too strong in the house. She finds a copy of his favorite book weathered and worn in the nightstand and puts it in her pocket. When she pulls it out of the drawer she sees the small velvet box. Shaking hands bring it to the light, the small diamonds twinkling in the sun.

Titus' wife died when they were young, he never remarried.

She places it on the kitchen table that night, Indra's withered and bony hand reaching out to cover her own.

"Don't be a fool, child."

"She wants to get married." Indra sits quietly, not saying anything. "Indra… she wants to marry me! _Me_! How could we… it's not even…. we can't."

"Alexandra, that girl has been in love with you for all of your years. Why does this surprise you?"

"She's never mentioned it before, we've always just been happy."

"Maybe she's never needed it before. But, the two of you share something… it doesn't happen twice. It doesn't even happen once for some."

Lexa blushes, embarrassed.

"Marry her in the best way you know how. Or don't, and walk this earth for the remainder of your life without her."

Lexa's heart stutters in her chest at the thought. Indra leaves her alone and Lexa climbs the creaky stairs to her room. Digging under her bed for the box she hid there so long ago. It's covered with a layer of dust when she slides it out. She takes the top off carefully and sets it aside, the piece of paper inside untouched.

When she flips it over she can't breathe. The old drawing… the one Clarke sketched away so seriously on their last afternoon in the sun. The face staring back at her not so different from the one in the mirror, not a stranger any longer.

The hopelessness that Lexa felt that summer comes creeping back. The velvet box sits atop her bed calling out to her and she jumps up and begins packing her bag, her heart racing.

Xx

Her pulse is still racing and her palms are sweaty as she climbs the stairs of the familiar Boston brownstone. She has a key, but she doesn't use it. Doesn't want to intrude.

Not sure if she is still welcome. Not sure if Clarke is even still here.

She knocks softly on the door, steeling herself. Clarke's icy gaze haunting her.

The door opens slowly and then Clarke is there. Looking just as sad and lonely as she did when Lexa left.

Looking as sad and lonely as Lexa feels.

It's the second time they've stood in doorways looking at each other. The city is different. The pain is different, _they_ are different, but the love is the same.

Clarke's eyes gleam with a smile she tries to hide, but Lexa sees it. Steps forward across the threshold and grabs Clarke's face, pulls her into a kiss. She pours everything she has into Clarke, and Clarke melts against her. Into her. Whimpers into her mouth and tangles her fingers into Lexa's wild hair.

It's a kiss that fans out between them, filling every corner, every crevice of their souls. Syncing their heartbeats. Weaves them together in ways they never were before.

It speaks a language that only they know.

They curl around each other, ribbon into bows, smoke around flame.

Lexa kisses Clarke as if she is the air and her lungs ache to breathe, too long underwater.

Clarke kisses Lexa as if she were the snow, falling heavy and sure into a blanket on the ground.

It's hours or moments or seconds before they break apart, gasping for breath. The door still open between them. Clarke rests her head against Lexa's like she did those years ago, her hands tugging on the hair that frames Lexa's face.

"Are you back?"

"I'm back."

"I've missed you."

"Clarke?"

Clarke hums.

"I love you, you know."

Her eyes spring open with surprise, twinkling like they used to. "That's my line…."

She pulls Lexa into another bruising kiss, further into the apartment and slams the door, pushing Lexa's back against it.

Clarke takes her right there, her body aching, yearning for the touch. She breaks quickly crying out Clarke's name into the apartment. And then she's pushing Clarke against the wall, kissing every inch of her she can find. Trying to slow down, to savor. But Clarke hisses, " _Lex.._ " and claws at the back of her head and Lexa doesn't wait any longer. She rips Clarke's pants down to her feet and waits for Clarke to kick them off before swinging one leg up around her hip and sliding her fingers inside.

The way Clarke gasps and moans at the sensation almost buckles Lexa's knees.

Clarke holds her gaze steady, steady, while Lexa works and curls.

It's almost too much.

It's not even close to enough.

When it's over they slide to the floor, a pile of limbs and sweat, chests heaving for air.

Lexa stares up at the ceiling, finding the crack in the paint that has always bothered her. Clarke's breathing is heavy in her ear, her leg twisted over Lexa's. And then Clarke is laughing, loud and unfettered. Gasping for air for another reason.

She laughs even harder at Lexa's puzzled reaction, before Lexa dissolves into a fit of giggles at the sheer lightness of the moment.

How everything heavy and messed up between them seems to always disappear.

Fade into the mist when they remember who they are, what they can be together.

"Lex?"

"Clarke?"

"I'm glad you're back."

"Me too."

Clarke spirals into another laughing fit. Shorter this time, crawling over Lexa's body and kissing her through giggles.

Xx

They spend the next few days in bed. Leaving only for food, coffee, wine.

They twist and turn, relearning their bodies. How they fit and align.

Every curve, every line, every sensation.

Even though neither one of them would ever forget. Could ever forget.

Lexa ravishes Clarke. Paints apologies onto her skin, sinks to her knees in reverence.

Clarke worships Lexa. Breathes promises and vows into her, builds her back up.

They don't talk about it.

About why Lexa left.

It doesn't matter anymore.

They move forward, one step at a time. Hands twisted together, facing the world.

It's only once they return to their regular lives, their routine, that Lexa thinks about it again.

The velvet box sitting in the bottom of an old shoe in the closet, her thoughts wandering to it whenever they're unoccupied.

Thinks about the words Indra said so solemnly at the table that night.

Thinks about all the ways in which she already feels married to Clarke, tied to her in every possible way.

She pulls it out of the shoe one morning after Clarke leaves for her studio, Clarke's kiss still wet on her lips.

Examines it in the light, the small stones set into the thin gold band.

It's perfect. Perfect for Clarke. Perfect for them.

Xx

"Lex?"

"Clarke."

"Where do you want to go, my love?"

It's late, they're tangled up in the sheets and on the verge of sleep. They've settled in Boston, Lexa loves it here, the city feel but on a smaller scale than New York.

She yawns, "Nowhere."

Clarke turns onto her side to study Lexa's face, Lexa can feel the eyes heavy on her, trying to determine if she's serious or not.

"Come on, Lex… we've been here for a while now. You're getting younger."

"I'm getting older."

Clarke scoffs, "Can you be serious for just one minute?"

Lexa opens her eyes. Clarke is annoyed. Clarke is worried. She reaches up to brush a whisp of blonde off her face.

"I am not changing so fast anymore, my love."

Clarke sighs, "Do you really like it here that much?"

She nods against the pillow, "I do."

Clarke's heavy sigh fills the silence. "Ok."

"Just for a little while longer, Clarke."

Clarke snuggles her head against Lexa's chest, ear straight over her heartbeat. It always calms her whenever her worry flares up. It's not often, but once in a while the reality of their situation moves to the forefront of Clarke's mind. Their history, their future. It's all… muddled.

But Lexa's heartbeat, Lexa's heartbeat is strong and steady just underneath her skin.

Like always.

"Clarke?"

"Lex."

"Am I enough for you?"

Clarke sits up at her words, her brow furrowed and confused. "What?"

"Am I enough? Is this enough?" Lexa doesn't know why she says it. Why she lets their fight slink into the happiness they've just found again.

"Yes." Clarke says it with such quiet conviction that Lexa feels it over every inch of her. Chills down her spine and warmth in her belly.

"And kids? You know we probably could never have them… not like this, not with… not with my…" Clarke lays a finger against Lexa's lips, stilling her words.

"I've never wanted kids."

"You didn't want kids when we.. when you were younger. Things change." Lexa shrugs and hates herself for it. Feeling too vulnerable and raw.

"And I still don't. The only thing I wanted, I have."

"Clarke…"

"I mean it Lexa… you are the only thing I've ever thought of."

Lexa's cheeks color, hidden by the dark of their room. She smiles and Clarke leans down and pecks her lips. "Sometimes I wonder where you came from."

Clarke laughs, " _Me?_ You were born an old lady and _I'm_ the confusing one?"

Lexa's laugher joins hers as she flips her over and kisses her like it's the last thing she'll ever do.

Xx

They stay in Boston for another year before the cold winter gets to Clarke. The winds are harsher than they've been yet, biting through layers of clothes and scarves. Lexa takes one look at Clarke's grumpy face as she fights her way inside the door full of snow and cold air and knows it's time.

Their chapter in Boston has come to an end.

Lexa takes her to San Diego.

They get a bungalow on the beach and live warm and free. Clarke's skin soaks up the rays from the sun, darkening into a golden shade that seems warm even when she's inside.

Her eyes match the color of the ocean and her hair lightens and Lexa falls in love with her more and more each day.

Lexa always has.

Clarke traipses out to the beach every morning to work and paint. "I don't need a studio, Lex, the _world_ is my studio."

Lexa laughs and sets up a small desk in the corner to write.

But she can't write here.

She can't stop thinking about Clarke. How happy she is, how much she's thriving, how she hasn't painted this much, this beautifully since Paris.

Lexa's words disappear in a poof of smoke, blocked by the sun. By the waves.

And it's ok.

It's ok because Clarke is happy.

And Lexa, Lexa wants to marry her.

Xx

They don't stay in San Diego for long.

The never changing weather grows stale for Clarke's soul. Lexa has been ready to leave for months before Clarke brings it up. Tells her she needs change, gloom.

Lexa nods and places her hand on Clarke's thigh, her eyebrow rising in question.

"Let's go home for a visit before we decide."

"Ok." Lexa stands and holds her hand out for Clarke, waiting for her to do the same. It's tradition, their late night stroll through the city they have just decided to leave. Except this time they don't walk. Lexa stops in the middle of the beach, faces the ocean. Squeezes Clarke's hand and kisses her cheek.

They sit listening to the waves, the tide, rolling in and rolling out like time until the first rays of dawn peak brilliant and beautiful on the horizon. Pink and orange reaching through the sky like flames. Clarke's head warm and heavy on her shoulder, her hand still twisted with Lexa's.

Lexa reaches into her pocket with her free hand, tugging on the small object that's felt as if it were burning a hole through her skin. She kisses the top of Clarke's head and holds it out for her to see in the palm of her hand.

Clarke's sharp intake of breath at the surprise rings loudly in her ear.

"Lex?"

She pulls her head off of Lexa's shoulder and stares at her, wide and disbelieving.

Lexa smiles at her, holds the ring closer.

"I don't need this anymore, Lex."

Lexa sees the truth clear in Clarke's eyes and understands it. What they went through, everything they've been through, has been so much bigger than rings and papers.

But, the promise, the vow to one another, to stop running, to stop pushing away. The vow is bigger than them both.

"I do."

Xx

Clarke and Lexa stand hand in hand in the backyard.

Under their tree.

The tree where they used to read and adventure together.

The tree where Clarke drew Lexa as she saw her, Lexa's soul alive on paper.

The tree where Clarke pinned her goodbye.

Clarke and Lexa stand hand in hand in the backyard and promise each other that they will never leave.

That they will only love.

That they will trust in this.

Lexa slides the small band over Clarke's finger, never dropping her gaze. Her vow solemn and heavy in her eyes.

Clarke places the slim, braided band on Lexa's. Her happiness and fulfilment radiating off of her.

Clarke and Lexa stand hand in hand in the backyard and speak the truths of their hearts out loud for one another.

They are thirty two when they swear fealty to each other.

For Abby and Indra to witness.

And when Clarke leans in and kisses Lexa, seals the vows on their lips, a strange sensation settles over her.

Peace.

Xx

Abby decides she wants to sell the house, announces it over dinner one night.

Clarke pales beside her, but settles a hand on her shoulder and offers to help pack up.

"Where will you go?"

Lexa's question is met with a smile, "Here… if you don't mind?"

"Here?"

"Yes, I'd like to move in here. Help take care of this house, your house… Indra."

Indra smiles and meets Lexa's eyes, the decision clearly already made and only now being presented to her, to Clarke.

"I think that would be wonderful, Abby."

So they stay and they pack up Clarke's childhood home. Move Abby's belongings into the guest bedroom, sell what she doesn't want any longer.

Shadows cross through Clarke's eyes as they pack up Jake's study. Dusty and unused.

The door kept shut since his death.

Lexa worries for a second that Clarke will spiral again, delve deep into the cold, unfeeling void that took her away for so long.

But Clarke looks up and sees the fear in Lexa's eyes. Brushes a kiss over her lips and squeezes her left hand. A reminder of the promise, the one so newly made.

The one that was never new at all.

Lexa, still not used to the band that now adorns her hand, feels it dig into her finger.

A reminder, a piece of Clarke with her, on her.

Always.

Xx

Lexa falls into her old routine while they're home.

Locking herself away in the attic to write. Ideas flowing freely from mind to page in the familiar setting.

And Clarke, Clarke spends time with her mother. Rebuilds the relationship that struggled through Jake's passing. Moves through old boxes and memories. Uncovers lost mementos of their youth. Cries. Laughs.

She is beautiful.

Lexa loves her more than she ever has before.

They make love hushed and quiet in Lexa's old bedroom. The years and the memories and the future expand and twist between them.

It's new and sacred.

It's worn and familiar.

Xx

"You are beginning to look your age more and more, Alexandra."

Lexa's spoon stays in midair, halfway between her mouth and bowl. Indra's tone that solemn one that always sits and stays within her until long after the conversation has been finished.

She sets it aside, her appetite all but gone.

The fear and the realization of her youth rising up from the depths of her mind, where she pushed it aside so long ago.

"It is not a bad thing, child." Indra reaches out and grabs Lexa's hand firm in her own. "You have these few years to live the way others always have."

Lexa nods.

Silence settles around them but Indra does not remove her hand. The ticking of the clock on the wall counts the seconds that pass. The seconds that scrub more age from her face.

"I'm scared." Lexa's voice breaks into the air.

"I know. But you needn't be."

"What does it all mean?"

"It means that you know your lifespan. You've been given a gift."

"I don't want this gift." Lexa's tears come before she can stop them, her head falling into her hands and her fear pouring out of her hot and heavy.

Indra rises and stands next to her, pulls her into a hug, Lexa's tears dampening her shirt. She cries until she can't any longer, the weight of her curse heavy on her chest.

"Alexandra…"

"I know." She wipes away the tears and the snot from her face, trying to breathe deep but shaking from the effort. "I know."

"There is freedom in this… freedom for you and Clarke. You are the same right now. You can live in the light as you never have before."

"We've never worried about that… Clarke has never cared about what people thought."

"No. But I know somewhere inside _you_ have, as much as you try to bury it." Lexa doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. "You have the ability right now to live as your truest self...stop wasting away here with old ladies."

"Clarke has always just seen _me_."

"I know. But you do not have to hide your truth anymore."

Xx

Clarke is reading in bed when Lexa steps inside, peeling her shirt off, exhausted physically and emotionally from crying. Clarke looks up from her book and smiles in that soft way she does, the way that settles Lexa's soul. And Lexa doesn't stop to think before she crawls on top of her wife, peels the book from her hands and kisses her.

"Where do you want to go, my love?"

Clarke brushes the side of her face so tenderly Lexa struggles to breathe. "Where do _you_ want to go, Lex?"

"Spain."

"Then we'll go to Spain."

And then Clarke is kissing her.

Gently.

Tenderly.

Adoration pouring off of her.

So soft and so ginger with her movements, with her feelings. The conversation Lexa had with Indra in the kitchen not only between them. Clarke's lips ache with it.

She caresses Lexa's face, cradles her in her hands. Leans her back and hovers over her, brimming with everything that stays hidden in the depths of their minds.

The truth that they rarely acknowledge, but so prevalent between them.

Clarke takes her time. Sinks into every corner of Lexa. Kisses and touches every inch of skin, her eyes roving and heavy.

They don't speak.

They move together in silence. Gasps and heavy breaths, quiet moans and whimpers.

Raw.

Electric.

Everything that ever mattered.

Everything.

Xx

They are thirty two and eating and drinking their way through Spain.

Both of them pushing their art aside, the life in front of them too vibrant to miss out on.

They stay in Spain until Clarke is almost fluent, her whispers against Lexa's ears at night rolling off her tongue.

Italy is next.

A house in Tuscany.

Clarke takes a cooking class and Lexa learns how to stomp grapes. They eat and drink their accomplishments with one another.

Italian slips off Lexa's lips with ease, Clarke's eyes lighting up every time they're out.

Rome. Florence. Venice.

Clarke's hands itch to create, to make.

Lexa brings home canvases of all shapes one night, Clarke's squeals echo bright around their apartment.

When Lexa opens her eyes the next morning it is to Clarke, painting nude in the window, the sunlight drenching her skin.

Lexa's heart flutters in her chest.

They love more freely than they ever have. Open to the world and to each other.

It's magic.

The type of life Lexa never expected. Not fully.

"Lex?"

Lexa looks up from her plate, Clarke's brow furrowed. "Hmm."

"You're quiet."

She nods. Clarke places a hand over hers.

"I never thought life could be like this."

She watches as the words hit Clarke. "Lex…"

"No, it's…. I love you Clarke. I have always loved you. I will always. But I know that loving me has not always been easy. I know that loving me comes with limitations and rules, I know that. And you… you have loved me regardless. With every breath."

Clarke's eyes brim and she nods, holding Lexa's eyes. "We're the same, Lex."

Lexa shakes her head, "We're the same _now_."

Clarke holds firm, squeezes Lexa's hand in hers and waits until Lexa looks at her again, full and open. "We have always been the same."

Xx

Lexa starts to believe Clarke.

Feels it in the way they love.

The same as they always have. Clarke as steady and sure as she was the first time.

Lexa starts to feel foolish.

Until Clarke kisses it from her lips.

So soft and pure.

Lexa starts to wonder if this is how living is for everyone else. Easy. Light.

Like breathing.

They work their way through Italy and the mediterranean and venture up to Germany.

Lexa starts to write about Clarke.

Clarke as a girl who falls from the sky onto unsteady ground below.

Clarke who forges ahead, uncertain yet fearless. Blazing a new trail.

Clarke who finds love where she never expected it to be.

She finishes it quicker than any of her other works. The words flowing from the page, free and easy. As if they are already there fully formed inside of her, waiting for the right moment to be released.

She leaves it for Clarke to find one morning. Secreting away as she always does while Clarke reads.

Overcome with a new and different shyness.

When she returns to their loft she's met with Clarke's teary smile, kisses stamped all over her face.

Xx

They stay in Europe until a month before Indra turns one hundred.

It's unspoken between them that they will return home to celebrate, to visit.

Although this time there's a different car in the driveway next door, toys littered in the yard.

It jars Clarke, she reaches for Lexa's arm and tightens her grip. But Lexa soothes her and kisses her cheek as they climb the familiar steps of 26 Maple Lane and into the same home Lexa has always known.

Indra is propped up on the couch swathed in blankets even though the July heat is humid and heavy outside. She looks every bit her age, except for the same knowing twinkle that has always been present in her eyes.

They sit and they talk for hours.

Lexa tells her about the book she's just finished, the one about Clarke.

Promises that she'll read it out loud for her during their stay.

Clarke takes out her camera, begins snapping away. Photography a passion of hers that bloomed overseas. Darkroom chemicals quickly becoming one of the scents that Lexa will forever associate with her.

Indra's eyes begin to droop shortly after dinner, Lexa places an arm around her shoulder and helps her to bed, wonders exactly when it is that Indra became _old_.

Wonders if she ever looked like this as a child.

How strange that must have been for everyone. How curious.

She is thirty five and she has never looked younger.

She wakes up alone in bed and descends the stairs to the sounds of loud laughter from the kitchen, Clarke's and Indra's. Mixed in a beautiful harmony that Lexa wishes she could file away and recall at will.

Clarke pecks her lips good morning when she joins them, a mug of coffee waiting and steaming on the table for her.

"I promised Indra I'd take her to the diner for her favorite waffles this morning, is that alright?"

Lexa nods, "Sounds great."

"Are you sure?"

"Clarke."

"Oh, she's fine, she knows I need my waffles!" Indra pats her thigh in jest and prepares herself to move.

Clarke laughs loud and free again and soothes any complaints Lexa may have had. "Go have fun. Have her home at a reasonable hour, Clarke." Lexa tries to level Clarke with a stern gaze, but loses herself in Clarke's giggles and bright smile.

She stands and kisses Lexa again before helping Indra up and out of her chair, towards her walker and the door.

When Lexa's alone she roams the house, taking in the subtle changes Abby has made during her time here. The pieces of the Griffin's home that have found new life within these walls. The small picture of five year old Clarke with her missing teeth that hangs on the fridge, the old blue and white blanket that Indra knitted for Clarke's graduation from high school, Jake's favorite books displayed on the shelf next to Lexa's.

Lexa's books, with the fake name on the jacket and no picture on the back. Only her words inside telling the truth of who she is.

Her dedications.

_For Titus and Indra._

_For My Love_.

She pulls one off the shelf and cracks the spine. This copy never even opened, but purchased with love and pride by the woman who raised her.

She sits on the window seat and begins reading. The story so familiar to her, but the writing so different. Choppy and unsure. So unlike the words that find themselves on her newest pages. Lexa gets lost in her own story, paragraphs of words forgotten. Sentences that sing as she reads them again. Gems in between pages.

She loses herself until someone nudges her knee, and she looks up to find Clarke with a teasing smile on her face.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Not in the way you'd think. But listen to this line..." She flips back to the line she read a few pages ago, one that stole her breath away, and reads it aloud for Clarke.

Clarke's smile shifts into one of pride and encouragement. "Why do you think I forced you to publish that?"

Lexa rolls her eyes, "You did no such thing."

"Lex."

"You may have pushed me _towards_ a publisher _without_ my knowledge, but you know I was always heading in that direction."

Clarke leans down and steals another kiss from her lips. She tastes like maple syrup and coffee and Lexa breathes her in. Deeper and more satisfying than their pecks this morning. "Whatever you say."

Xx

Lexa reads her new work aloud to Indra in the days leading up to her birthday. Clarke sits with them for some of it, her legs draped over Lexa's lap, her face an odd mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

Indra's eyes sparkle with every word.

"Your best one yet, Alexandra."

"I think so, too!" Clarke chirps from the couch.

"Your opinion is skewed on this one, Clarke."

"Of course it is, doesn't make it wrong."

Lexa laughs and pushes Clarke's legs off her lap. "Whatever you say."

Xx

Indra's birthday is a quiet affair. Clarke cooks dinner, a smattering of her favorite recipes from Italy. Abby looks at her impressed and in awe until Clarke shoves her shoulder and asks her to set the table.

It's another night of laughter and conversation that lasts later than it should.

Lexa struck by how much laughter has filled the house this trip, how easy and light everything around them feels.

The weight of life hanging at the door for the moment, outside and unwelcome.

She walks Indra to her bedroom and helps her prepare for bed, waiting in the small chair by the window until she is settled and ready for sleep.

"Alexandra." Indra calls for her, her voice rough.

Lexa steps to the bed, sinks to her knees, leveled by the look on the face before her. "Yes?"

"You have made me so very proud, so very happy." Indra places her hand on Lexa's cheek, the skin paper thin, cool. "Don't ever lose yourself, whatever comes."

"I won't." A frog suddenly heavy in her throat, the mood in the room swirling with a new heaviness.

"Look at you…" Indra rubs her thumb across Lexa's cheek, plump and youthful, "You've always been such a beautiful girl."

"I haven't been a girl yet."

"You have been a piece of magic since you came into my life, Alexandra and I wouldn't have it any different."

Lexa nods, unable to speak. Tears welling in her eyes.

"Stay strong, my child." Her hand slips free from Lexa's cheek as she falls into slumber, her breathing even but weak, unsteady.

And Lexa feels it.

The goodbye hanging around her.

She sits by the side of the bed and waits, listens to the shallow breaths still rising from the bed.

Until the alcohol and the food overcome her and she nods off, sleep coming too easily.

She doesn't know how long she's out, but when she wakes the room is silent. Indra's chest no longer rising and falling with her life's breath.

But still. Unchanging.

Lexa's tears fall fast onto the pink blanket covering Indra's body.

Something inside her soul shaking and rattling and tearing apart.

She is unmoored.

Adrift.

Xx

For the first time in years, Lexa doesn't feel like writing.

Doesn't feel like pulling pieces from her heart and placing them on the page for all to see.

There aren't enough left.

There is only enough for Clarke.

Clarke, her safe harbor.

Clarke, her light through the storm.

Clarke, her wife.

Who holds on to her tightly as much as she can. Wraps around her in bed, grounds her to this.

To them.

Doesn't let her drift away.

Clarke who only sits in quiet silence while Lexa yells and waves around, pulling the newly framed portrait of Indra laughing on her birthday from the wall. The one that Clarke placed there only hours before.

Clarke who doesn't fear when Lexa disappears for stretches at a time.

Who leaves her alone to read and sit under the tree outside.

Clarke who kisses her with everything she can muster in the dark of their room.

Who loves her with everything she has.

Xx

Abby quits her job, sells her practice.

Clarke takes her out to celebrate after her last day, a buoyant smile on her face as she slips a new blue dress over her lithe figure, attaches pearl earrings to her ears. Glances back towards Lexa, reclining with a book on the bed.

Lexa who can't help but watch, a small pocket of lust in her belly.

"How do I look?"

Clarke's question breaks Lexa from her haze, she wants to kiss the pleased smirk off of Clarke's lips. "Beautiful."

"Good enough to eat?"

Lexa groans and rolls her eyes in protest, but Clarke is there kissing her soundly before she can say another word. "Come with us."

"Clarke…"

"Please, Lex."

"You know I can't. Not here."

" _Lex,_ " Her voice pleading, hushed.

And Lexa can't say no. She nods her head and chokes down the anxiety threatening to overcome her. Clarke's eyes before her sparkling, brilliant.

She swallows her fear and dresses quickly, the dress she wore to bury Indra the only thing suitable for the occasion. Strange and starchy on her skin.

Clarke simply brushes her hands over Lexa's hips and soothes her frayed nerves with a smile, a kiss on the cheek.

Abby doesn't comment on the surprise guest, just simply nods and offers to drive, taking one look at the strong grip Lexa has on Clarke's hand.

And Clarke never lets go.

Guides them through the restaurant with ease, her touch pulling Lexa from her overworked mind.

"People keep looking at me, Clarke." She hisses.

"Because you look beautiful, Lex. Because you look beautiful."

Lexa's nerves calm when they're seated in a booth, tucked away from prying eyes. Lexa thinks she recognizes old faces from her days in the library, her imagination running wild. Clarke's hand on her thigh keeps her grounded, safe.

Reminds her that she doesn't look anything like she used to.

That no one here could possibly find out her secret, find out that the old woman who lived with Titus and Indra is here now, young and vibrant.

She relaxes after her first glass of wine.

Settled in the booth, against the cool window.

Surrounded by the two people left on this earth who know her, love her.

The conversation flows easily, Abby and Clarke knowing just what to do to pull her from inside her mind, her fears.

She begins to enjoy herself by the time their appetizer comes, Clarke's eyes wide. "You're gonna love this, Lex."

And she does.

She loves every bite, every sip, every minute.

When Clarke ushers her over the edge that night, steady and strong, _proud,_ it is transcendent. Lexa is grounded in reality and floating through space at the same time.

As Clarke sleeps deeply beside her, Lexa notices the way her face has changed. How it has sharpened and refined with time and age. How Clarke's body has begun to soften, ripen with years of wear. An old favorite sweater that Lexa never wants removed from her body.

And she notices how her own body has hardened. Muscles taut, lean. The fullness of her face, of her lips. The full brown hues in her hair, not a trace of grey left.

How the years that shed from Lexa's skin and bones accumulate on Clarke, seemingly trading youth and age between them as easy as the air they breathe in and out in the dark.

Xx

Clarke takes her to Disney.

They revel in it, the freedom, the joy.

Clarke's eyes sparkle like they did when she was young and free.

They hold hands and eat mouse shaped ice cream and enjoy the rides as if they haven't a care in the world.

And because they are together, they don't.

Lexa suggests New Orleans after that.

They stroll through the French Quarter, drink on Bourbon street, stuff themselves full of beignets.

Clarke kisses the powdered sugar from her lips. She tastes like chicory coffee.

Lexa smiles into her lips and deepens the kiss.

They take in the Grand Canyon.

The red sprawl stretching before them like nothing else.

And each time they return home for a short trip, Abby sends them a look that says more than words ever could.

They laugh and take the hint.

Xx

They travel to Australia.

Explore the Great Barrier Reef, the beaches, the wonders.

They move to New Zealand. Lexa's thoughts get lost among the mountains.

Clarke kisses her and whispers _Thailand_ in her ear late one night.

They walk through the markets of Phuket completely bewildered and bedazzled by the life and colors floating everywhere. Lexa has never experienced anything like this before. They ride elephants at the edge of the jungle and Clarke's joy is all encompassing.

She wants to remember every second, every moment of this life.

China is next. Clarke takes her to the Great Wall and holds her hand as Lexa loses herself in the enormity of it all.

Stands in the middle of the path and kisses her deeply.

Promises sunken onto lips.

Her camera an ever present accessory around her neck, capturing the same beauty as it filters through clear blue irises.

They take a train through the Himalayas.

The romance of it all ignites between them, they spend every night tangled up in each other in the tiny bunk of the tiny room as the train bumps along the rail below them. Grooves worn and familiar, not unlike the pathways on their skin.

Every time she breaks it is with those same blue eyes looking at her as if she's the most precious thing in the universe.

Her love for Clarke knows no bounds, ever expanding, ever changing, like the skin cloaked over her body. Her aging soul wearing a younger girl's features.

She brings Clarke to the Taj Mahal.

Their gasps mixing together in the warm air around them. The scene breathtaking.

Lexa places her arm around Clarke's back, pulling her closer. Kissing the crown of golden hair that has started to show strands of silver weaved within. Needing to feel her. Understanding the love and devotion that would have driven a man, a person, to build such a tribute.

The love and devotion that courses through her veins with every beat of her heart.

And when she's had her fill.

When she's begun to notice the suppleness newly present in her cheeks, under her eyes, she turns to Clarke. Late, twisted around her in the darkness. Kisses the side of her neck, her cheek, the dip in her chin.

"We should go back."

"Lex?"

"We should spend time with your mother, while we are able." The heaviness of the past, of Titus, of Jake, of Indra, stills the room.

Clarke nods against her, her breathing shallow with tears she will not shed.

Xx

Home feels different the next time Lexa walks through the familiar door.

Indra's presence is missed immediately, though Abby is there with open arms and a welcoming smile.

Lexa's eyes float over the small pieces of Indra that still remain. The old knitting basket by the armchair in the living room. Her favorite vase filled with wildflowers on the kitchen table. Her wide smile, frozen forever in the pictures that adorn the mantle.

She stands in the middle of the room and closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Fights off the sorrow that threatens to overtake her once again.

Clarke's arms wrap around her from behind. Her forehead rests against Lexa's shoulder. The silent strength she has always embodied slipping through layers of skin and clothes until it rests against Lexa's heart.

Lexa opens her eyes and leans back into Clarke, presses herself as close as she can to her.

Clarke's lips brush against her ear. "We don't have to stay…"

Lexa shakes her head, "It's ok. I'm ok."

She spins in Clarke's arms and grabs her face, bringing their mouths together in a kiss that ignites and rattles in her soul. Clarke holds on to her for dear life, melting into her, matching her.

And everything that has come between them, pushed them together, pulled them apart, has led them to this.

To this steady, eternal love. That stretches and weaves between them, pulling the loose threads and knotting them tighter together. Weathers every storm, every bump in their journey. Waxes and wanes but never truly dissipates.

When they finally break away from each other, racing hearts and heavy breaths, Lexa leans into Clarke. Rests her head against Clarke's forehead the way she always does, the way that always soothes her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you."

Xx

Clarke sets up another darkroom in the house, commandeering the large closet off the foyer for her work. She disappears in there for hours at a time, losing herself in the images of their travels. Emerging sweaty and stinking of chemicals, but smiling and relaxed.

Lexa falls in love with her all over again.

She feels the urge to write. The small nudge that begins in the back of her mind and grows louder and louder until it cannot be ignored. When she finally sits down at her desk, the words pour from her. Overflowing from a tap left on too long into a glass that can hold no more. Yet they are hard and dusty, her prose not as natural as it once was.

Frustration weighs heavy on her.

Clarke soothes it away with her calm touch, her soft voice. "It will come back, Lex. It always does."

"What if… what if I'm losing it?"

"You can't lose something that was always a part of you. Breathe, Lex. _Breathe._ "

It's not until she's flipping through Clarke's pictures that the words come back. Full and free.

Her fingers slipping over a portrait of herself taking in the Taj Mahal. The look of wonder full in her eyes, disbelief on her face. She was so absorbed in that moment she doesn't remember Clarke photographing her.

But it jars something inside.

When she sits back at her desk, it's easy. The first sentence flies off her fingers and onto the page before her, the smile on her face deeply embedded in her round cheeks.

She asks Clarke for that photo the next day, places it in an empty frame she found in the closet and leans it against the wall at her desk.

Motivation coursing through her.

Xx

Abby gets a call from an old colleague asking her to come and present a panel in D.C. The three of them pack up again and rent a gorgeous house in Georgetown. The air is different here. Buzzing with promise and possibility. Change and cynicism. Youth. Greed. Lust.

Clarke buries herself in her work to deal with it. The seriousness of the town not something she was expecting.

Lexa thrives. The pace and the hustle around her pushing her to achieve, to fight. Her words come faster than ever before and she longs to share pages with Clarke. But she waits. She shares them with Abby instead, Abby who looks up from each section with teary eyes and kisses her head, all the pride of a mother alive in her touch.

Clarke decides that she wants to show her work, open a studio. She tells Lexa and Abby matter-of-factly one night over dinner, the excitement alive in her eyes. She finds a small space near their home and begins filling it with her pictures. The empty space on the white walls around them shrinking by the hour.

Her photos sell quickly and steadily. Lexa hasn't seen Clarke this happy, this proud, of her work in ages.

They are both drenched in fulfillment, brimming with the spark of life that only creativity brings.

Xx

"Where do you want to go, my love?"

"You like it here, Lex."

"You don't. Where do you want to go?"

Clarke smiles and kisses her cheek. "Vancouver."

They are forty two and standing on a ferry as it coasts in closer and closer to the city, the skyline beautiful and shining in the sun.

They both sink into the Pacific Northwest like they were born to be there. The pulse of the city beats under Lexa's skin. Clarke begins painting again, green hues so rich they almost leap off the canvas.

They settle in Vancouver for years. The longest they've stayed anywhere since Boston. Abby stays in D.C., but they visit each other frequently. She finds new love, an old flame that rekindles.

Clarke encourages it, welcomes it.

Lexa's heart aches.

Her mind slipping away to the fear of the future again. Facing the downward slope of her lifespan.

She retreats and withdraws into herself, unable to pull out of the spiral, of the dark thoughts that swing up and encompass her.

Clarke stays steady beside her. Doesn't bring it up, doesn't question. Soothes her with kisses and a calm touch. Reminding her that she's here, she'll always be here. Glides over her skin and worships it.

Tries to repair Lexa's frayed nerves the way she always has, the way that has always worked.

And it does for a time.

But Lexa cannot help but notice the differences in their skin. The ones that creep back up between them. Almost forgotten in the years of bliss they shared, the years of sameness.

Now all the wrinkles and creaks have worked their way from Lexa and into Clarke in a way she can no longer ignore.

She breaks down one afternoon, her fingers curling into Clarke, her eyes roving over the familiar, freckled skin beneath her. She stills her movements, but Clarke's hips keep rising up, aching for release. A tear slips from her eyes and lands on Clarke's cheek.

And then Clarke stops moving. A hand flies to her face, " _Lex._ "

And Lexa lets go.

The tears and the struggle and the fear pour out of her. Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa's shoulder and pulls her down, into her.

"Lex…"

She sobs until she can't any longer. Her face swollen and puffy, the snot running from her nose freely. Clarke kisses her cheeks and caresses her face but doesn't say anything else. Ever patient.

Lexa settles against Clarke's chest. Their naked skin warm between them. She draws patterns over Clarke's shoulders, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't." Clarke's voice is hushed, reverent.

"Clarke,"

Clarke cuts her off, "Don't. Don't apologize, please. You've been walking around like a zombie for weeks… I've been worried."

"I know. That's part of it."

Clarke squeezes her arm tighter around Lexa's back in answer, simply pauses to see if Lexa will continue.

Lexa waits, takes in another deep breath. The familiar scent of Clarke filling her nose, her soul.

"The stuff with Abby and Marcus freaked me out."

"I know."

"You did?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, Lex, I can read you like one of your books."

Lexa scoffs, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you hate it when I push you, and I knew you'd either get over it and work it out on your own or you'd do this." Clarke places another kiss against her forehead.

"I just," Lexa's voice cracks on her words, her emotions rising back up, "I just… I don't want to leave you alone."

"Oh, Lex." Clarke turns into her and wraps both arms around her.

"I don't... I can't bear to think of how I'm going to disappear on you. I don't know if I can handle the fact that I'm going to slip away… and you're going to remember."

Lexa can feel Clarke's tears on her cheek, the unspeakable truth finally in front of them.

"Lexa," She waits, waits for Lexa to look at her. Eyes rimmed and red. "I will never, ever regret loving you. What will be will be, but until then we have so much left in front of us."

But Lexa shakes her head, "I don't know if _I_ do… not like this, not…" She chokes down another sob, "I won't be able to be _your wife_ forever."

"Lexa, you will always be my wife, no matter what. I don't care what we look like… this in here," she points to Lexa's heart, holds a hand steady over the quick fluttering, " _This_ will _always_ be you. And I love you."

Lexa pulls Clarke's mouth to hers, needing to feel the words on her lips, swallow the promises that drip from Clarke's heart.

Hungry and fierce.

Burning.

Desperate.

She works her hand back between Clarke's legs and thrusts. Clarke's gasp, her groans loud. Animal.

She comes hard, teeth sinking into Lexa's shoulder. Waves and shudders rolling through her, quakes and quivers reverberating onto Lexa's skin.

When Clarke finally touches her, it's almost too much. She jumps at the shock of it, like an electric jolt. Clarke moves into her with practiced ease, a knowing slide, dip. A steady pace. Until it's all too much and Lexa hears herself plead for more.

She comes with a cry and falls against Clarke's shoulder, wraps herself up again in the arms of her love.

Xx

It gets easier after that. After they acknowledge the finite amount of time that spans between them.

The finite amount of time that always has.

Everything they do begins holding an extra weight.

Like they are holding on to every detail, every moment, even harder than before.

The way their bodies twist together with their passion feels new and different and bigger than it ever has.

Even in their happiest moments.

It has always been a shifting and changing dance between them. The youth of Lexa's body pliable and flexible, bending under Clarke's guided touch. Her new physical strength matching Clarke's enduring emotional strength.

Clarke's body an old friend. Known and beautiful.

Lexa's a new delight. Familiar yet different. To be explored, cherished.

Xx

They are fifty and traveling through South America.

Mexico City huge and overwhelming.

Costa Rica small and peaceful.

Colombia rich in culture and food.

They climb pyramids and mountains, drink black coffee and sample every bite of cuisine they can find.

They stand small and infinitesimal before Christ the Redeemer in Brazil.

Clarke takes so many pictures in every city they stop in, Lexa wonders if she sees anything before her.

Lexa writes and writes, publishes two books before their travels are up.

Lexa writes about Clarke. Clarke as a fearless pirate, out to find the Fountain of Youth. The high seas no match for her.

And Clarke as a huntress, ruthless and smart, death bending to her will. Her legend all encompassing.

Xx

They twist their bodies around one another for as long as they can. Not wasting any moments, any chances.

It’s fierce and passionate.

Beautiful.

All consuming.

Imprinting the physical manifestation of their love on each other’s skin, tattooing it there so it becomes part of their fabric.

Something they can see forever.

And when it is time, when they can no longer share that beauty with each other, kiss new memories onto skin, they sink into a quiet companionship.

Xx

They are fifty eight when Abby dies.

Clarke grows quiet and withdrawn, and Lexa fears that she'll disappear like she did before.

But she doesn't. She shares her tears, her sadness with Lexa. Trusting that Lexa will help hold her together.

And she does.

Because Lexa needs her just as much.

Clarke is the only remaining person who knows who she is.

Who has always known who she is.

Lexa is fifty eight but she looks twelve.

Jarred by how strange it is to be on the other side. The difference between them staggering.

She whispers late one night into the void, "How did you do this?" not expecting an answer and startles when Clarke's voice sounds beside her.

"I never even thought about it. You were always just _you_."

Lexa clasps her hand in tight in the darkness.

"We have had a beautiful life together, Lex. I couldn't have asked for more. You gave me the world. You made me immortal with your words." She stops and places her forehead against Lexa's in the dark. "You gave me your heart."

Her love for Clarke blooms and blossoms bright in her chest, breaking through the fear that has gripped there cold and unflinching.

And Lexa knows it's time.

Xx

"I have something for you, my love."

She places the box in front of Clarke at the table, holds her hand over it so Clarke can't lift the lid yet.

"Do you remember when we went to the Taj Mahal and I could barely breathe?"

Clarke nods, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "We stood there like idiots forever just gaping at it."

Lexa laughs, "We did. All I remember thinking is that I understood that kind of love and devotion… I just felt it there."

Clarke brushes a thumb over the back of Lexa's hand and nods.

"Remember how when we got back I was so frustrated because I couldn't write?"

"I do. God you were such a pain…"

"The thing that got me going was that picture you took of me, staring at the Taj Mahal. You must have taken it right when I had that realization because you can just see it in my eyes."

"Lex…"

"Clarke, my love, this is my Taj Mahal."

She removes her hand and Clarke opens the box and takes out the manuscript. Lexa kisses her cheek and leaves the house, giving Clarke the space and the freedom to read.

Read about _her_.

About them.

About the girl who was born old, who was placed outside the home of two elderly people and raised by them. The girl who fell in love with her first friend. Whose heart stuttered and stopped whenever blue eyes would meet hers. The girl who aged backwards, growing younger and younger as her soul got older and older.

The woman who captured her heart and held on tight.

The woman who stood beside her and faced the world, faced the cruel and unusual twist of fate they were handed together, without fear.

It's everything Lexa has ever wanted to say to Clarke.

Everything Lexa has thought, felt.

It's a look into her brain, her heart.

Her whole life there on the page for everyone to see, to read.

Truth presented as fiction.

Her real name finally pressed and embossed into the spine of a book she's written.

And it is her best work yet.

Her masterpiece.

_The Curious Case of Alexandra Forrest._


End file.
